


Opera and Emeralds

by emmaliza



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (kinda), M/M, Porn With Plot, Private Sex?, Prostitution except not really, Public Sex, and there is porn, and uses it to sass his grandfather because why not, in which marius is kind of a glorified prostitute and surprisingly happy about it, whatever the proper fic term for 'kept man/woman'-ing is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 20:38:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Perhaps he should be ashamed of himself, having such a profligate lifestyle on Courfeyrac's account, rather than making an honest living; pretending sharing his bed is somehow a duty, rather than yet another indulgence. Yet somehow he cannot. It is in the nature of a pleasurable existence: it is all-consuming, occupying all the space that may once have been used to doubt it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt: "Marius is Courfeyrac's kept man." Officially one of those fics that gets out of hand; the second chapter actually has a _plot!_ (well, kinda.)

The door slams shut and Marius looks up from his book. Courfeyrac stands in the doorway, grinning at him. "Good evening, my friend."

"Good evening." Marius climbs off the bed, approaching him. "I wasn't expecting you tonight."

"And yet here I am. Curious." Courfeyrac discards his coat and takes a step forward, and lays a hand on Marius's neck. He pulls Marius in and kisses him, grazing his teeth across Marius's lower lip; Marius somehow doubts they'll be wasting much time tonight. "Mm, I missed you."

Marius blushes. "You always say that."

"Well it's true. I am not in the habit of dishonesty, and we do not get to spend enough time together. It's a damn shame. Still, I hope you were able to keep yourself entertained in my absence?"

Marius struggles not to let his blush deepen. That is probably not what Courfeyrac means (though with Courfeyrac, who knows). "I suppose so. I've gotten a lot of reading done."

"Oh? I pray I did not interrupt you at some crucial point in the narrative?"

"Oh no, no, it's fine," Marius assures him. "I like your company better than a book's.

"Aha, so you have missed me!" Courfeyrac bears a victorious grin. "Oh, I'm so glad."

In celebration he practically throws himself at Marius, bestowing upon him another kiss, this time hard and fast and making Marius squeak in surprise before returning it. "Now, my darling," he says, "given we have both been in such despair at our separation, is it not now time to passionately reunite?"

Marius is left a little breathless. "Oh... right," he says. Courfeyrac smirks, and lays his hands upon Marius's chest.

Another kiss and Marius finds he is being pushed backward, until his knees hit the edge of the bed. He stumbles as he goes down and Courfeyrac laughs at him, making Marius pout. "Stop that."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Marius moves himself further up the bed, and Courfeyrac follows him, swinging one knee either side of Marius's hips. His weight makes Marius sink into the plush mattress, half-buried in the thick silk comforter. Courfeyrac carresses his cheek gently. "In fact, I think I have something to make you forgive me."

Courfeyrac pushes himself up slightly and Marius frowns in his confusion. From his trouser pocket he removes a small black box.

"I thought we agreed that I am not going to marry you."

Courfeyrac laughs at that. "Hush, ingrate. Take your present."

He hands Marius the box, and hesitantly, Marius pries it open. Inside are contained two silver cufflinks, encrusted with dark green gems in a pattern that resembles a leaf.

"...Emeralds?"

"Indeed. To match your eyes."

"My eyes are grey."

"They are green. Honestly, I do these things for you and you want to argue about your eye colour? Again?" Courfeyrac sighs in faux-disappointment. Marius chuckles shyly.

"Sorry. But I do like them. They must have been expensive though."

"Well if I bought you pretty trinkets cheaply, what sort of declaration of affection would that be, hmm?"

Marius sighs. "You spoil me. Thank you."

"Oh, I fully expect you to."

Courfeyrac kisses him again, cupping his jaw, and Marius tilts his head back. Courfeyrac breaks away to suck and nip at his neck instead. "Your skin is so soft," he murmurs, and Marius smiles. "And I believe you have gained some weight."

Marius frowns. "Hey," he protests.

"It is a good thing. Now you just look slender, as opposed to deathly ill." Marius supposes the other man is right; he did lose a lot of weight while he was still struggling to feed himself, after all. Through his shirt, Courfeyrac presses small, biting kisses along the line of his collarbone, no longer as prominent as it once was, until he reaches the centre. He licks a path up Marius's neck, over his adam's apple, scratching the bottom of his chin with teeth, until his lips find Marius's once more. He pries them apart with his tongue, and Marius moans into his mouth.

"My dear," Courfeyrac whispers, running a hand through Marius's hair, "my sweet Marius: you are absolutely beautiful."

Marius whimpers. "Thank you?" He is, despite everything, still not the best at accepting compliments. At least Courfeyrac seems to find it endearing.

"Oh, don't mention it," he says, and pulls himself up slightly. Marius would be displeased with this, except Courfeyrac performs this action so that he may begin undoing the buttons on Marius's shirt, which he supposes is a worthy cause.

Of course Courfeyrac being Courfeyrac he is a terrible tease, and fakes distraction, running a finger along the silver embroidery at the hem and collar. Marius feels his touch only through the soft, thick fabric. "I do like this shirt on you," he muses. "Such a pretty shade of blue. You look good in colour, my sweet."

Marius shivers. One of the first things Courfeyrac did when they began this arrangement was try and expand his wardrobe, claiming he could not dress as if in mourning forever. Despite his loyalty to his father, he found himself unable to resist. Thankfully Courfeyrac seems to remember his task with the buttons, and returns to them, so a sliver of Marius torso is revealed. He runs a finger along what bare skin he can find. Marius gasps. "Your fingers are cold!"

"Hmm? Ah, yes; it is rather chilly out, and I forgot my gloves." He smirks, and pushes aside Marius's shirt enough so he can access a nipple, circling it with an icy finger tip. Marius whimpers as it hardens under the sensation. "Oh, you poor dear. How you suffer."

"I actually despise you," Marius says, voice faltering.

"So you really are with me only for my money? Deceitful whore."

Marius moans as Courfeyrac kisses him again. That is not true, as Courfeyrac is his best friend and kindest companion and Marius would love him equally if he were a pauper, and would - did love him equally when he was not the man to whom Marius plays mistress. But to be made love to on the prince's bed Courfeyrac bought for him, surrounded by all the luxuries Marius knows he would never have accepted off Courfeyrac if he could not justify it by his having paid with his body, thrills him. There is something sensuous and indulgent about it, yet corrupt and depraved. It is the exact opposite of what Marius has always strove to be and he adores it.

Perhaps he should be ashamed of himself, having such a profligate lifestyle on Courfeyrac's account, rather than making an honest living; pretending sharing his bed is somehow a duty, rather than yet another indulgence. Yet somehow he cannot. It is in the nature of a pleasurable existence: it is all-consuming, occupying all the space that may once have been used to doubt it.

Courfeyrac undoes the last few buttons and opens the shirt. "Darling, sit up now?" Marius obeys so Courfeyrac may pull the fabric from his shoulders, dropping it onto the floor. Marius frowns, annoyed at the lack of care shown for his clothes. Courfeyrac sees his expression and sighs. "Marius, he who pays for the things decides how they should be treated, yes?"

Marius is forced to let it go. Courfeyrac indulges many of his habits, but a preference for neatness is something he has to act on himself, and right now it is not his first priority. "And yours?" he says, abandoning the argument without really conceding he lost it, and reminding Courfeyrac to offer himself in return for how he takes Marius. He's a little proud of himself, to be honest.

"Oh, right," Courfeyrac says and quickly starts undoing his own buttons. Marius pouts. Courfeyrac usually lets him do that and though he does fumble a little, he's not that bad, and he likes to have as much opportunity to touch as possible. But he sees how Courfeyrac grins at his pout and realises: Courfeyrac is doing this on purpose, disappointing Marius just enough to show him how spoilt he is. Oh, Marius hates him, he really does.

However he does not hate the flesh revealed to him. He takes a few seconds just to stare, and then gently places a hand over Courfeyrac's chest. "Oh," he says, feeling each contour.

"You can touch me properly. By now you must know it will not hurt."

Marius gulps. He gets up to his knees, gripping at Courfeyrac's flesh firmly. He crawls forward, until he is close enough to drop his head and press a chaste kiss to Courfeyrac's shoulder. He closes his eyes and keeps his head bowed submissively, waiting for something, though he's not sure what. After a moment of this, Courfeyrac grows concerned. "Marius?" he asks, stroking the curve of his spine, and Marius smiles to himself. Whatever it was he was waiting for, that will do. So he kisses Courfeyrac's shoulder again, this time with open lips and a wet tongue, until he hears Courfeyrac's breath become just the slightest bit faster. When he pulls back, he learns he has left a faint red mark.

He grabs Courfeyrac's other shoulder for stability, and then lowers himself. He roams Courfeyrac's chest with his mouth, leaving kisses and bites. He blushes a little when he takes Courfeyrac's left nipple between his teeth, rolling it back and forth and receiving a pleased "Mm," in response. He represses the embarrassment long enough that he won't forget what he's doing. He drops the hand on Courfeyrac's shoulder back to the bed, balancing himself on his hands and knees so he can lower himself further, to nibble at the very top of a hipbone barely revealed by the cut of Courfeyrac's trousers. He swipes his tongue to the side, licking a long trail up Courfeyrac's chest, pausing halfway through. His mouth hangs open and his tongue presses against salty skin.

Sheepishly, he raises his eyes to meet Courfeyrac's gaze. He flushes in sheer humiliation when he realises he is panting, like a dog; yes, a loyal bitch eager to show her master affection. He does not move. Courfeyrac stares down at him and grins fondly. "Oh Marius. You absolute treasure."

He grabs Marius's forearm and pulls him up again, so they kneel at equal heights and share another kiss. Courfeyrac yanks at Marius's hair and Marius clutches his waist, groaning softly. Courfeyrac must be getting impatient. In fact, the hand not in his hair starts tugging at his trousers, undoing the buttons with a practiced ease that Marius could only ever envy. The fabric folds over, his trousers still being tight enough around his thighs to stay up mostly, but Courfeyrac uses the situation to wind his hand down the back of Marius's trousers. Marius feels a sudden rush of memory and terror as he realises what Courfeyrac will discover, and he closes his eyes in mortification.

"Marius? What is this?" With two fingers Courfeyrac strokes over his hole — which is slick and wet and open. Marius tries to look away, despite still having his eyes closed, because he can feel Courfeyrac's amused gaze and savage grin burning straight through him.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, whimpering in both embarrassment and pleasure as Courfeyrac teases his entrance. "I was... bored."

Bored is very much not the correct term, but it is the term he can bring himself to say. Courfeyrac chuckles, but when he speaks his voice sounds almost reverent. "My beautiful little slut." Cautiously, Marius opens his eyes. "It is fine. It is perfect. I just hope you haven't spent yourself entirely."

Marius gasps as Courfeyrac spreads his fingers, pushing him open as much as possible at the awkward angle underneath clothing. "I — no, that's not going to... be a problem." Indeed a quick look down tells him his erection is very much ready. Marius moans as Courfeyrac increases the pressure with which he plays with his hole, though still not enough to breach him. Unwittingly, Marius bucks back against the fingers. "Oh, please Courfeyrac."

"If you wish darling." And he removes his hand so Marius can kick of his shoes, and peel his trousers away fully. He realises he has left a slight wet spot where his cock leaked precome. Oh well, he can always wear another pair.

Marius lays back down on the bed, completely naked with his legs spread. Courfeyrac gently traces his hipbones, and says nothing.

Marius whimpers once more and Courfeyrac smiles, returning his fingers to Marius's entrance. "You've made yourself so wet," he says, still just stroking and spreading, but not pushing his fingers inside. Marius spreads his legs wider. "How long ago did you do this?"

It takes Marius a lot of effort to keep his breath steady. "A few hours," he says, trying and failing to sound flippant. "I've had time to recover."

"You must have used a lot of oil."

"...Well I didn't want it to hurt."

"How many fingers did you use?"

Marius blushes once more. "Um, three I believe." Courfeyrac raises an eyebrow and the pressure lightens far, far too much. Marius groans. "Alright, four at one point. But I stopped that quickly because, well, it did hurt."

Courfeyrac grins and finally starts to push one finger in, watching how Marius arches with a loving gaze. "I adore you," he whispers.

"I know." Marius moans as Courfeyrac finally breaches him, pushes one finger back and forth methodically. "Oh, _yes_."

"You're not being very shy tonight," Courfeyrac says, which almost makes Marius shy. "I like it. God knows you're beautiful when you're debauched."

"I thought I was — mm — beautiful all the time?"

He manages a witty chuckle of his own after that. Courfeyrac returns it. "Oh, you are becoming vain now? I see how it is. Next thing I know you will have run off, left me for some pretty boy far more of a pompous dandy than myself."

"Don't be ridiculous. No-one is more of a pompous dandy than you."

Courfeyrac adds a second finger instantly and Marius gasps. "Careful dear. Please don't become too clever, else your darling Papa will have to punish you."

Marius groans. "I've said I don't like the Papa thing."

"Oh?" Courfeyrac asks. "My apologies. I suppose you don't like to thing of me as a wise and caring father? No, you enjoy knowing you are sleeping with a wastrel. A hedonist, a corrupter, a seducer, a republican. Honestly, I feel a little exploited."

Marius blushes. "That's not true," he says.

"Isn't it? Shame. I've always been quite proud of my hideous reputation."

Courfeyrac pushes in deeper and Marius moans yet again, trying to roll his eyes while they are already rolling back in his head. "Honestly Courfeyrac, you can be very confusing."

"And you can't?" He kisses Marius again, spreading his fingers apart. "But you love me, yes?"

"You know I do."

"Then all is well." Then he crooks his fingers just so, knowing exactly what it will do to Marius, and Marius keens helplessly. "But how could you not love someone who does this to you?"

"Oh god, Courfeyrac!" He is ruthless, stroking at that one point quickly and firmly, not letting the shivers pass through Marius's body before more come, and he whines and convulses hopelessly in response. "Please, more, there," he gasps, begging.

"What do think I'm doing?" Courfeyrac asks, but he is indulgent, adding a third finger and pushing them apart as far as possible. Marius cries out to the heavens. Oh god yes, that is what he needs, to be opened and stretched as far as possible, so he can take and take and take without ever having to stop. Courfeyrac's fingers fill him nicely, long and smooth-skinned and rounded at the fingertips, but they're not quite enough, never will be—

"Your cock," he whispers softly. "Please Courfeyrac — oh! — I'm wet, I'm needy, just _please_."

"Indeed you are so very, very needy," Courfeyrac says. "Sometimes I wonder if everything people say is wrong, and it is in fact you who is the bad influence on me. For you incite me to be greedy, my sweet, taking far more of this gorgeous boy than can be in any way righteous. Oh you will send me to hell Marius, you really will."

Perhaps Marius smiles at that, flattered by the implication: that _he_ is something tempting and irresitable. "Good."

He keens as Courfeyrac, without removing his fingers, starts undoing his trousers with his free hand. He's resigned himself to never understanding Courfeyrac's ability to get rid of clothing. Courfeyrac doesn't bother taking off his trousers fully, simply pulling out his cock and moving between Marius's knees. Perhaps Marius should find that humiliating, and perhaps he does, but only in the way that makes his blood pulse even quicker, makes his body flush with heat.

Courfeyrac removes his fingers and Marius whines a little at the emptiness. "Hush now, I'll have you filled in a minute, don't worry." He presses the head of his cock up against Marius's entrance, but Marius makes a noise of protest when he doesn't immediately push in, canting his hips to try and force the tip inside. "Patience! Oh dear, you truly are a spoilt brat."

But he receives no punishment for his brattishness; Courfeyrac fills him in one firm thrust. He cries out and throws his head back, mouth hanging open undignifiedly. "Courfeyrac!" he shouts, clenching. Courfeyrac gasps slightly himself.

"Still so tight," he muses. "Who knows, perhaps the blushing virgin is still a part of you after all."

Marius manages to laugh a little through the sensation. "I'm pretty sure you can do anything and everything to me and I'll still be a blushing virgin underneath."

"Oh, was that an invitation?"

"If you like."

Courfeyrac's grin is savage this time as he pulls back and pushes into Marius deeply, knocking a gasp out of him. His thrusts are deep, strong; they make Marius quiver with pleasure... But they come slowly and unsteadily, possibly because Courfeyrac wants to give Marius time to adjust and possibly as a purposeful tease, but whatever it is Marius gets impatient again, bucking his hips. This time Courfeyrac pretends not to notice (alright, he is definitely being a tease).

He buries himself deeper, enough to make Marius feel a little pain, and stops. He doesn't pull back but remains sheathed entirely, and Marius whimpers. He can feel himself trembling around it, his body betraying his greed, trying to pull Courfeyrac in deeper. He can feel _Courfeyrac_ , hot and hard and absolutely wonderful, and absolutely torturing him.

Marius almost wants to sob when Courfeyrac bows his head to kiss his neck. On impulse he grabs Courfeyrac's shoulders with both hands. "Courfeyrac, Courfeyrac, Courfeyrac please," he begs, kneading fitfully. "Please just fuck me, fuck me, fuck me I need it _oh god!_ "

Courfeyrac thrusts into him hard and fast, leaving no time for Marius to even get his breath back, and Marius writhes and squirms in pleasure. He spreads his legs wider and Courfeyrac grabs him by the thighs and pushes him up a little, so he thrusts at a new angle, and he knocks against that spot again and Marius gives a shocked, delighted, very embarrassing shriek. "Is this more like it, love?" he asks, and Marius can only whimper and nod.

He bites his lips to smother a particularly loud moan, and Courfeyrac smiles and looks as if he wants to do that for Marius. So Courfeyrac kisses him again, using his tongue to silence Marius whenever his cries of pleasure get particularly out of hand. Marius raises his hands to Courfeyrac's chest, hitting at him when he really can't control himself, and scratching in a way he'll feel awfully guilty for later. Through it all he can't escape the feeling of that cock inside him; the heat that invades, sinks into the core of him, sets fire racing through his veins; the thickness that pushes him to his limits, leaves him stretched and sore and exhausted. He almost wants to ask Courfeyrac to add a finger alongside his cock, just to give him more, but he decides that would hurt too much, like what he tried earlier, and really he's not that brave. So he takes what he's given, gratefully, moaning into Courfeyrac's mouth.

It's no wonder he can't last. Still, he feels guilty and a little ashamed, especially given his 'play' earlier in the day, though he knows Courfeyrac would never judge him for it. But there's nothing he can do. "Courfeyrac," he gasps, "I can't—"

"Shh darling, it's fine." And Courfeyrac takes his cock in hand. Marius moans wildly as Courfeyrac strokes him, slow and firm, in no way matching the pace of his thrusts but it doesn't even matter now. Marius is helpless, body responding to touch without even thinking about consulting him, Courfeyrac whispering in his ear to try and calm him. Courfeyrac tells him how beautiful he is, how sweet and unique, what a rare treasure is he. Courfeyrac tells him he is the prize of a lifetime.

Marius wrenches his eyes shut as tears well at the corners; his tightly-wound body arches up off the bed, like a bowstring about to snap. Courfeyrac's other hand traces his side gently, as he thrusts intently, making Marius moan so loud that his shame can't help but resurface, and he bites his lip hard enough to taste blood. "Easy, easy darling," Courfeyrac says, kissing him once more, grabbing his waist with one hand to help him keep still. Two more thrusts and Marius breaks; he whimpers and gasps and mewls into Courfeyrac's mouth, he thrusts desperately into Courfeyrac's hand and against his cock. He can feel his own come dripping off him, onto his stomach, over his thighs, down Courfeyrac's arm. His body is debauching him.

Finally Marius's tension gives way as Courfeyrac wrings his pleasure from him; he collapses into the bed, boneless and exhausted. Courfeyrac pulls back, looking at him with a smile. "My dear," he says, spreading Marius's legs wider. "My sweet love."

Marius moans as Courfeyrac keeps thrusting into him, not so hard as before (as Courfeyrac would never risk seriously hurting him), but enough to make his oversensitive hole twitch in shock at every thrust. Just because Marius has come does not mean Courfeyrac is in any hurry to, and that thought excites him. He will take Courfeyrac until there is no more to take, greedy whore he is, not just until he's had what can be considered a fair share.

...You know, sometimes Marius wonders what has happened to him.

But it cannot last forever; Courfeyrac raises his come-soaked palm to Marius's lips and Marius, ever obedient, licks his own seed from Courfeyrac's skin. Courfeyrac throws his head back and shudders, seeming moved by the sight, burying himself in Marius and going still again. Marius feels something new, hot and wet drip down his thighs, mixing with what is already drying there. He groans.

Courfeyrac gives a little sigh of pleasure, grinning at Marius both lazily and lovingly. "You are incredible."

"Thank you?"

They both giggle at that, and Marius moans as Courfeyrac slowly pulls out of him. He will need to change these sheets before sleeping tonight.

"How do you feel?"

"Well, empty now," and indeed Marius is stretched in ways he knows he shouldn't be; in ways he knows will feel uncomfortable, and pleasurably so, for hours to come. "But... good. Sated."

"Very well. I'm glad I could please you." Courfeyrac presses a kiss to his temple, then rolls over to lay by Marius's side, wrapping an arm around Marius's waist. "Oh, you look exhausted, pet."

Marius is a little embarrassed. "Well... yes. That was not the least strenuous activity, physically speaking."

Courfeyrac smiles. "Then rest darling; you deserve it. Besides," he smiles, "I have plans tonight."

Marius is puzzled by these so-called 'plans', and wants to interrogate Courfeyrac about this. But then, just like that, he is asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Marius wakes up maybe two hours later, because he is cold. He shivers and burrows himself into the covers - the covers he is still lying on top of, rather than under. He frowns. "Hey," he says, rolling to see Courfeyrac — who is firmly under the covers, and who responds with a sleepy 'hmm?' "I'm cold. Why aren't I under the covetrs?"

Courfeyrac cracks open one eye, and smiles. "My apologies. I would have tucked you in, but you looked so peaceful asleep, I didn't want to risk disturbing you."

"A likely story. You just wanted me to be cold when I woke up so you'd have an excuse to cuddle me."

"Oh darling, I don't need excuses to cuddle you." Marius pulls himself up so he can slide under the covers, and whether he needs an excuse or not Courfeyrac immediately takes Marius in his arms. Marius leans against Courfeyrac's warm chest, only a little disappointed in himself for letting Courfeyrac's wicked plan succeed so fully.

Courfeyrac traces patterns along the skin of his arms, and Marius is half ready to fall asleep again. "What time is it?" Courfeyrac asks, in lieu of nothing.

"I'm not sure. Sunset?" Marius says, looking at the faltering light coming through their curtains. "Hold on." He strains to see the grandfather clock across the room, over Courfeyrac's shoulder. "About five?"

"Ah good, we have a few hours yet."

Marius raises an eyebrow. "A few hours? A few hours for what?"

"Oh, just that I made plans tonight. But a little more laying together like this would also be nice, and luckily we have time for both."

"Right, your 'plan,'" says Marius. "...What is your plan?"

Courfeyrac laughs. "Look in the box," he says, which just confuses Marius. "...You know, the box I gave you? With the cufflinks?"

"...Oh!" Marius pouts when Courfeyrac smirks at his lapse of memory. "Alright, shut up."

"Oh darling, you know how sweet I find you."

Marius grumbles something that does not in any way resemble words. He reaches toward the bedside table and opens the box again. The cufflinks are there, glittering in the late afternoon sun, but nothing else. He's a little puzzled.

"Remove the base, dear."

Marius does so, and finds underneath two opera tickets.

"Oh," he says. "So that was your plan; we're going to the opera? You... probably didn't need to bribe me for that, you know; I like the opera."

"Oh darling: the gift and the tickets are entirely unrelated, it was just convenient to keep them in the one box," Courfeyrac says. "I mean, honestly, I already paid for the opera so even if you didn't want to go you would accept anyway out of guilt. I knew that."

"Manipulative swine."

"Indeed."

"You know, when you said you had 'plans', I assumed it would be something... uh... actually nevermind."

Marius buries his face in the pillow to hide his blush, but not soon enough that he doesn't notice Courfeyrac raising his eyebrow. "My dear I love you, but you're insatiable."

"It's not like that, I just... I _thought._ "

"Of course. But alas, I am still recovering a little; for now you must be content with my strong and manly embrace." Marius rolls his eyes and burrows further into that 'strong and manly embrace'. "But who knows, maybe later? If you're good, and if I'm pleased by the number of people this evening who covet my pretty little toy."

"I am not a toy," Marius says, trying to hide his grin.

-

They head out around seven, having washed some of the sweat from their bodies and found clothes that are less rumpled and disarrayed. Marius still wears black trousers, coat and waistcoat but Courfeyrac talked him into donning a — fuschia? Is that the word? — shirt that almost shocks him with it's garishness. "It will make you look even cuter when you blush," he said. To which Marius responded: "You just assume I will blush?" To which Courfeyrac responded: "Darling, you always blush." To which Marius responded by blushing.

It's still cold out, and Marius tries not to shiver too violently. Courfeyrac notices, and winds his arm around Marius's waist to lend him warm. Marius appreciates the thought, but: "Courfeyrac, we're in public. People will see. People will talk."

"People do little else."

Marius will never understand how Courfeyrac can be so blasé about the thought of people knowing. "You do not mind?"

"Not particularly."

"...Then why did you tell me I should move into my own apartment when we started... this, in case people suspected something if we were living together?"

Courfeyrac smiles. "Did you ever consider, dear Marius, that I said that as an excuse? That the reason I wanted you to have your own lodging was to have somewhere to sneak away to in the middle of the night, feel that illicit thrill of a forbidden affair, the sort that gets the town gossips a-flutter: 'Oh, that de Courfeyrac, I wonder what virtuous woman he has seduced this time?'"

Marius knows Courfeyrac means it in jest, but he feels a little uneasy with the idea that Courfeyrac might be purposely constructing their relationship to fit a particular pattern. Plus the reference to Courfeyrac's past lovers and conquests, something Marius does not share. He's just being silly, but Courfeyrac's visage takes on the edge of guilt once he notices the anxiety on Marius's face. He presses a kiss to Marius's cheek once they are in a particularly dark shadow. "Of course, there's also the fact that my apartment is simply not good enough for you," he says matter-of-factly. "I have to stay there for political reasons, but you: you deserve to be treated like a prince. No matter how difficult that is to reconcile with my republican ideals."

And like that, Marius's fears are abated. He smiles, and lets Courfeyrac walk with his arm around him the rest of the way to the opera house, to hell with whoever may talk.

Once they arrive, Marius thinks the place is oddly empty. "...I was expecting more people," he says.

"Well, it is the middle of the week. You see some people, not of such noble backgrounds as ourselves, they have to do this thing called work and that rather affects when they can and cannot afford to go to the opera."

Marius glares. "I know what it's like to work, Courfeyrac. And you do not, so please don't patronise."

"Oh my dear, I'm only teasing," Courfeyrac says, and Marius rolls his eyes, but is soon forgiving. "Besides, you've always said it's too noisy at the opera."

"It is. People don't show enough appreciation for the art, the story, the music; they just see it as cheap entertainment."

"Ugh. Tell me, why am I so fond of someone so unbearably pretentious?"

Marius elbows Courfeyrac in the ribs, but giggles; in fact he's so busy giggling he doesn't notice the man he is fast approaching and manages to walk straight into said man's chest.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going; I'm sorry Monsieur—" he looks up to see who it is he has injured. He stops dead. "—Grandfather."

Indeed the man stands before him, leaning on his cane, looking a lot smaller than Marius remembers him and sneering behind faux-gaiety. "Marius," he says. For a long moment, there is silence.

Courfeyrac, ever the charmer in uncomfortable situations, deems it time to intervene. "Ah, so you must be the famed Monsieur Gillenormand! I am Courfeyrac. Your grandson is a dear companion of mine."

 _Dear companion._ That is what Courfeyrac calls him, and he's always seemed to be able to lace it with whatever amount of insinuation he chooses; sometimes it is entirely innocent, sometimes it is practically a leash and collar around Marius's neck. This time, Marius is too preoccupied to try and decipher which.

"Hmm," says Grandfather, shaking Courfeyrac's hand roughly once it is offered. "Haven't seen you in awhile, boy," he says, still focused on Marius.

"No. No you have not."

Perhaps it's irrational, but for whatever reason he is _angry_ at his Grandfather's presence. How dare he come to this opera; intrude upon Marius's pleasant evening with the man he loves? Marius does not hate his grandfather, really, no matter what their current relationship may suggest — but life with his grandfather was always so difficult and he wants to keep the spectre of that as far away from Courfeyrac, the one person who has made him happier than anyone else in the world, as possible. It's not fair, but he can't help but be mad that Grandfather would try and ruin this for him. He already took away one man that loved Marius more than life. Why not two?

Grandfather seems affronted by his curt response, and so turns to Courfeyrac. "Have I heard of you boy? Your name seems awfully familiar. There was a man, de Courfeyrac, I knew some years back: perhaps you are one of his?"

"Believe me Monsieur, I belong to no family named de Courfeyrac." Marius will never fully understand Courfeyrac's relationship with the particle in his name, but it seems to irritate Grandfather, so he can't help but be thankful for it.

He turns back to Marius, taking in his appearance, and Marius can't help but feel like a small child being appraised on whether or not he is neat enough for church. "I see my six hundred francs are being well spent," Grandfather says, clearly noticing the richness of Marius's clothes.

"I wouldn't know," Marius says, causing Grandfather to look bewildered. Surely he knows Marius always sends his money back? But Courfeyrac decides to intervene once more before the conversation can continue, and things can deteriorate any further.

"Right, well, we ought to find our seats. Knowing this one, he will get lost in the middle of the rows, and probably trip over some poor Madam's feet." Grandfather chuckles at that, and Marius feels annoyed. _No. Courfeyrac is allowed to tease me like that; you are not._ "Farewell, Monsieur. It was a pleasure."

"Indeed." And Courfeyrac threads his arm through Marius's as he drags him aside.

Courfeyrac leads him to a shadowy corner before he lets go. "Are you alright, my love? You've gone so white, I was worried you might faint."

"Pardon? Oh, no, it's fine. I just..." Marius lets out a deep breath, trying to expel some of the tension from his body. He fails. "I wasn't expecting that."

"I thought as much. Well, surprised as you are, try not to hurt those beautiful hands of yours." Only then does Marius notice he is balling two fists, digging his nails into his palms. Courfeyrac lifts both hands to his mouth and presses a kiss to the back of them, one after another. That makes Marius relax, even if he worries someone might have seen. But when he glances to the side, no-one is looking.

Still, his grandfather's spectre looms over him, and he searches for the man across the room. "Marius? You know we don't have to stay here. If his presence makes you an uncomfortable—"

"What? Oh, no." Marius turns back to Courfeyrac, feeling as if he is having thoughts he cannot recognise, and smiles. An odd sensation — smugness? — settles in his stomach. "I mean, you already paid. I would feel so very guilty."

-

Despite himself, Marius remains on edge throughout the show. The theatre is close to empty so he and Courfeyrac sit in the shadows again, far away from everyone, and Courfeyrac occasionally dares to press a chaste kiss to Marius's neck. There is still some noise, but not as much as there often is. Not enough that it would keep Marius from concentrating on the performance. If he could concentrate on the performance. Which he cannot.

Marius sighs and unthinkingly places his hand on Courfeyrac's thigh, kneading in order to try and handle some of the stress simmering inside him. Courfeyrac gives a small 'hmm,' and Marius blushes and removes his hand once he realises what it must seem like he's doing. Ah, no. That would — that would not be a good idea.

And yet, some spiteful part of Marius feels the urge to do something. He looks across the room to where Grandfather is seated — he almost certainly can't see anything Marius does from there. He is looking with interest at the stage. Marius sighs. He doesn't know whether Grandfather really did pick up on the nature of his relationship with Courfeyrac, just what a 'dear companion' he is. But oh how he would hate it: his grandson, being a glorified whore to a republican wastrel? Oh, the scandal if it ever got out!

That thought, Marius realises, should not please him. Yet it does. He's happy that what he's doing would make his grandfather angry. Why is that?

He sighs and leans into Courfeyrac, closing his eyes. "Are you alright, darling?"

"Oh, fine," says Marius. "Just a little tired."

"Did I wear you out?"

Marius blushes again, but smiles. "Perhaps."

"Poor babe."

Courfeyrac wraps his arm around Marius's waist, apparently unfazed by who could see them, and Marius can't bring himself to worry about it either. When he opens his eyes again, he realises why Courfeyrac is so unworried. It really is very dark in this part of the theatre; he doesn't think anyone could see them do anything, not even the people sitting closest. A thought occurs to Marius. A thought occurs to Marius that really should not occur to Marius.

 _...No,_ he tells himself, blinking it away. _Just no._

That doesn't work. He closes his eyes, and... _Have you gone mad? To hell with being caught, to hell with scandal; you could be arrested!_

These are all very good points, points he should acknowledge, points that should make Marius forget this whole thing and just watch the opera like a normal person, but he cannot do that. Since when is he the one who has thoughts like this? Whenever they do things that push, ahem, 'boundaries' it is always Courfeyrac's idea, with Marius being a little uncertain but eventually enjoying it because he is a very repressed slut. This is not how it works. Not at all.

Whilst Marius is having this great internal debate, he finds his hand has returned to the inside of Courfeyrac's thigh, stroking up and down gently. "Marius," Courfeyrac asks, a smile in his voice, "Marius, what are you doing?"

"Shh," says Marius, which he knows isn't really an answer. _Oh god, what am I doing?_ He presses harder and moves his hand further up, teasing slightly. "People might hear you."

"Mmm, I don't think they're paying attention." The music is in a crescendo anyway; people probably can't hear. "But you didn't answer my question."

"Don't worry, I'm just being greedy again. How unusual." And finally, he lays his hand over Courfeyrac's cock, squeezing.

Courfeyrac gives a choked sound. "Oh sweet Marius," he whispers. "I have been a terrible influence on you."

Marius smirks to himself and, praying there's enough room, drops to his knees on the floor.

It's a little uncomfortable, trying to fit all his gangly limbs into the small space between the rows. Yet he manages. Courfeyrac looks down at him with an expression of sheer disbelief. "Marius..."

"It's alright," Marius says, and before he can lose his nerve he starts fumbling with the buttons of Courfeyrac's trousers. Is he going about this too quickly? Then again, if he is being mad enough to do something like this in public it's probably a good idea to do so quickly. Yes, he realises he has utterly lost his mind, but Courfeyrac stares at him so adoringly and Grandfather is right there, with absolutely no idea what Marius is doing, and Marius can't bring himself to stop.

He's actually quite proud of himself that he manages to extract Courfeyrac's cock from his trousers so quietly. He isn't fully hard yet, but is definitely on his way, so Marius strokes over him a couple of times, before running his tongue over the length. Oh, he likes this. He likes this more than he can really justify liking it. How he would love to just kneel here with Courfeyrac using his mouth for hours; however, he realises that is an even worse idea than doing this in the first place. He has to be quick.

Courfeyrac's cock is hard and thick in his palm and yes, yes, that's it, that's enough. He puts his lips around it and sinks down as far as he can possibly manage. It hurts a little; his mouth is obviously protesting, but he's opting to ignore that. Instead he looks up at Courfeyrac to see him grinning. He takes in a little more and, as well as he can, smirks to himself at how Courfeyrac's expression falters.

He wraps a hand around the base to keep himself steady, like Courfeyrac taught him, and leans in when Courfeyrac starts stroking his hair. "My beautiful boy," he whispers. "You astonish me."

Marius mumbles something he may mean as thank you, he's not sure, then starts bobbing his head up and down. Courfeyrac groans and tightens his grip on his hair. Marius focuses on his breathing, trying to make sure he doesn't choke, as he takes Courfeyrac further in and then pulls back and he has done this plenty of times by now but somehow it still thrills him, pushing himself to his limits so he might actually gag, so his jaw will ache afterward from holding more than it was ever meant to (this is one of those rare occasions where his ridiculously large lips come in handy).

Perhaps the thought that they are doing this publically, where anyone could see him if they just looked hard enough, thrills him too.

Marius moans quietly, lucky that what he's doing automatically muffles any sounds he makes in response to it. Now he focuses on the taste, the heat and the salt, that laces his mouth. Truth be told he likes the taste of Courfeyrac's cock more than the taste of his come, though he doesn't exactly mind that. Marius closes his eyes and moves his hand back slightly, so he is more cupping Courfeyrac's balls than holding his prick, and then moves his mouth down further. He splutters a little; he is really testing his gag reflex by now, but oh it feels good, heat pooling in his stomach as he's barely able to breathe. He would like to ask Courfeyrac to go ahead and choke him on it, but that probably would be too loud and messy to get away with. Just, oh god, he really loves this.

Courfeyrac's hand tightens in his hair. "Marius," he says, unwittingly bucking a little into Marius's mouth. "Darling, I'm going to..."

Marius nods enthusiastically, pulling back only a little, so Courfeyrac's cock isn't right at the back of his throat but is still firmly between his lips. He returns his hand to the base and squeezes. "Go ahead," he tries to say, but of course it only comes out as mumbling.

Courfeyrac gasps and Marius feels his mouth flood with liquid, also hot and salty but with a strange other taste, one that would almost make you feel sick if you weren't used to it. Marius moans. He realises he has no choice but to swallow it, not that he minds, but oh god.

It comes in short bursts and Marius takes as much as he can, still sucking at Courfeyrac for a spare drop; he is panting and Courfeyrac is gasping. Thank god the music is loud. Finally he pulls back, resting his head against Courfeyrac's thigh as he tries to catch his breath, lips even more red and swollen than usual.

He turns his head to the side. No, no-one has noticed them.

"Marius." He looks up to see Courfeyrac smiling down at him, and offering him a hand. Marius takes it and returns to his seat. Still breathless and giddy, he leans forward and kisses Courfeyrac on the lips. Well if he can get away with what he just did, what can't he get away with?

Courfeyrac kisses him back, apparently redoing his trousers at the same time. "My beautiful Marius," he says. "I admit, I wasn't expecting that."

"I... um." Marius turns bright red. Oh, thank god it's so dark.

Courfeyrac kisses him on the cheek. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?" He reaches forward and places his hand over Marius's crotch, where he is also straining against the fabric, and he jumps a little in shock. His first thought is to tell Courfeyrac to stop, that someone might see, but that might be the most hypocritical thing ever said in human history.

With his other hand Courfeyrac removes a pocketwatch from his trousers. "Five minutes until intermission," he says. "I promise I'll take care of you then. Oh my darling, you are wonderful; I would do anything for you."

Marius nods and leans back in his chair. Courfeyrac does the same, but until the break occurs he still has his hand in Marius's lap, palming him firmly and making Marius whimper.

-

During intermission Courfeyrac leads him outside, and it's still cold, but he hasn't much time to focus on that as they sneak into an alleyway — dark and abandoned, as suits their purposes — and Courfeyrac pushes him against the wall.

"My adorable whore," he says, kissing Marius's neck. "I didn't get the chance to thank you."

Marius gasps. "It's—It's alright," he says, quivering as Courfeyrac grabs him by the waist, presses their bodies together. They're fucking in an alleyway when they need to be back inside in twenty minutes; this will be rough and filthy. And yet Courfeyrac still loves him, still praises him, and Marius adores him for that.

Courfeyrac pushes Marius's trousers down around his thighs and wraps a hand around his cock, and Marius gasps. "My poor little love," he cooes, sweet as ever, "you made yourself so needy doing that, and couldn't do anything about it because — well, what would you do once you came? Oh sweet Marius, you sacrificed your comfort for my pleasure, and I can only try and show my gratitude."

Marius whimpers. "It's not — that big a deal." Given how much he enjoyed doing that, and how it was born out of his irritation with his Grandfather more than anything. Still, he can't bring himself to refuse Courfeyrac's attempts to reward him.

"Oh, hush you. Now, darling." Courfeyrac raises two fingers to Marius's mouth, and Marius groans as he takes them between his lips. He covers them with saliva as best he can, cock jerking at the thought of what Courfeyrac is about to do. Perhaps Courfeyrac was right. Perhaps he is insatiable.

Courfeyrac removes his fingers and places them at Marius's rim, still a little wet from earlier. "Marius, are you sure you can handle this?" he asks. "It's been a little while since I fucked you, and we have no proper lubrication. It might hurt."

Marius shudders. "I'll be fine," he says. "I'm still quite... And it's only fingers; I mean, I doubt you're ready to..."

"Alas not. Besides, we don't have the time." Courfeyrac smiles benevolently. "Alright my dear. If that is what would please you."

Marius cries out as Courfeyrac pushes his fingers in, burying his face in the other man's shoulder. He's right, it does hurt. And yet the pleasure is much stronger, as Courfeyrac is not teasing him; he works Marius's ass and cock to make him come as quickly as possible. Marius practically falls apart, and oh how he loves this man.

-

Given how little attention they were paying to the opera throughout the first act, perhaps it's no wonder they have no idea what's going on in the second. "And you accused others of not appreciating the art form," Courfeyrac teases him. Marius scowls, and says nothing. They're both exhausted, and so rest against one another, letting the music wash over them without trying to comprehend what on Earth it means. Marius feels warm and content; what else could he ask for?

Once it's time to leave Courfeyrac of course cannot find his hat in the coatroom, and Marius gets bored standing around; Courfeyrac sends him off to wait outside. Marius doesn't see the point of that. Courfeyrac probably just wants to make him cold to have an excuse to cuddle him again.

As he's waiting he feels someone approach. "Marius."

He jumps. "Grandfather!" He almost forgot about his presence. Grandfather looks at him oddly — almost sadly. "Hello. Um, what did you want?"

Grandfather looks toward the door. "Where is that friend of yours? That de Courfeyrac?"

"Courfeyrac? Oh, he can't find his hat in the coatroom. That happens a lot. I'm waiting here."

Grandfather frowns. "Who is he?"

Marius frowns. "I don't understand?"

"Who is he to you? What is your relationship?"

Marius takes in a deep breath. Right. He knew he would have to confront this eventually. "He is... a dear companion."

"Damn you boy, do you think I'm blind?! Do you think I didn't see him dragging you off to that alleyway, all those kisses in dark corners? For the sake of both of us, I'm going to pretend I _didn't_ see what he had you doing in the middle of the performance, you wretched child."

Marius's blood runs cold. _Fuck, he saw._ This is where his spiteful pride gets him. Still, he manages to meet his grandfather's gaze. "That is none of your business. And I am not a child anymore."

Grandfather gulps, an angry vein popping in his neck. "Those clothes," he says, confusing Marius for a moment. "Those fine silks you wear. You didn't spend a single sous of mine of them, did you?"

Marius smirks. "No. No I did not."

"So what is this? He pays for your upkeep, and you—"

"Show my gratitude in whatever way I deem appropriate. Yes."

Grandfather stares at him for a long moment, then very purposefully tries to soften his gaze. "Marius," he says. "Marius, I know you are angry with me, and I know we both made mistakes, but — if you need my help to get out of this dreadful situation—"

"Grandfather I am not in anything I wish to get out of!" he says. "And I certainly will not return to your household. Not when I am finally living with a man who cares for me and treats me with some form of respect."

"Respect?!" Grandfather sounds like he cannot believe it. Marius didn't really expect him to. "Marius, do you have any idea — Marius. You stupid boy, do you think he loves you? Do you think a man like that would ever love someone like you?"

"Well it took me many years to start believing anyone loved me at all, what with my father's abandonment and my guardian only ever looking upon me coldly. Perhaps I am simply clinging to the first person to ever actually show me affection? In which case surely it's not Courfeyrac's fault at all, but rather the fault of he who convinced me I was so unlovable. Who tells me as such even now. I wonder who that could be?"

Marius knows he is being cruel. And yet, he can't bring himself to stop.

"Marius — cursed boy, even if you despise me, you must acknowledge I raised you, I know you. Throughout your twenty years you have always lived up to your name: the Virgin Mary herself probably wasn't as pure. And now, you expect me to believe you are _happy_ being some spoilt little boy's whore—"

"Essentially, yes. Although I believe he thinks of me more as his mistress, and between the two of us, really I am the spoilt one." Marius smiles. Grandfather sighs. For a long moment, there is silence.

"...It is not the life your father wanted for you."

Marius smile snaps. All that anger, all that vague tension coursing through his body all evening comes to one crystalline point. _How dare you—_

"My father sacrificed everything so that I could be rich and happy," Marius spits, overwhelmed by his outrage. He pauses, basking in fury.

Then he takes in a deep breath. "While I lived with you, I was only rich," he says. "Now I am both. So if that will be all, Monsieur, goodnight."

He bows slightly before striding over to where Courfeyrac is emerging from the opera house doors. "No luck finding my hat I'm afraid," he says as Marius links their arms together, standing just a little closer than would be completely innocent. "You'll have to go about with a hatless lunatic. Really though, we should have seen this coming."

"Hmm." Marius catches his grandfather's eye for a second, before the older man huffs and storms off. Marius bites his lip. "Courfeyrac, do you know I adore you?"

"What? Oh, certainly. You've made it very clear."

Marius grins. "Good." Then, arm-in-arm, they start to head home.


End file.
